


if only, in another life

by spideywhiteys



Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [54]
Category: Naruto
Genre: AOT AU, Gen, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, SNK AU, but it's mostly yugito's thoughts, it's all pretty mild tbh, mild violence, they're still killing titans, yugito POV, yugito is a captain, zabuza is from the underground
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideywhiteys/pseuds/spideywhiteys
Summary: Yugito thinks it would have been nice to be born a cat. Humanity holds too many responsibilities.
Relationships: Nii Yugito & Momochi Zabuza
Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [54]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086938
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	if only, in another life

**Author's Note:**

> Day 54: SNK AU / Yugito + Zabuza

Steel cuts through bulbous flesh like butter. Steam explodes from the wound, scalding and mixed with viscera. The titan collapses to the ground with a thunderous boom, the rest of its flesh melting away like sugar under water. Skin, muscle, bone — it all fades from existence, like it was never the parts that made up a creature from their worst nightmare. How many had it killed? How many had it harmed? Physically? Mentally?

It all disappears, and it feels like one last victory for the titan. She wants to dance on its disgusting, slack-jawed corpse and it won’t even let her do that.

There’s a howl of laughter followed by another crash. Zabuza swings through the trees with an expression of sheer mania, his blades wet with the steaming remnants of titan blood. Soon that, too, will be gone, turned to wisps and swept away by the breeze.

She sighs, shaking the disappearing gore off her steadily dulling steel. Zabuza is a force of nature, a crook from the Underground with less titan kills than human ones. Yugito doesn’t approve of him, but she is adaptable. You have to be, to survive in the Survey Corps for longer than five minutes.

“We’re clear!” She calls, and gets a few affirmatives in response. They’ve lost three already. It’s not as bad as anticipated, but it’s still three lives snuffed out like candles. Meaningless in the moment — but in the grand scheme of things? She has to believe it’s all worth it. She has to believe that all this death will serve as fodder for a brighter future. It’s likely a future she won’t ever get to see, because it’s doubtful she’ll make it to old age. 

And it’s doubtful the titans will be thwarted in her generation.

It’s a pessimistic thought Yugito keeps to herself. She keeps it buried so far down that she barely ever acknowledges its existence. That kind of thinking isn’t needed outside the walls. If she lets it take over, she’d find herself spiraling into the depression that takes half the soldiers — which are already halved by the titans.

Yugito drops from the tree branch she’d settled on, her gas canisters hissing. She’s propelled through the air, her body balancing the rush and momentum instinctively. It’s been years, a few very lucky, impossible years, but by now she can use the 3DMG in her sleep.

A black flare soars over the treetops, still some distance away.

“Abnormal!” She calls out, readying her blades.

Zabuza flies by, still looking like a wraith, still looking like he’s up to no good. His dark eyes meet hers, a grim set to his jaw that contrasts with the sharp-toothed grin he sports. He’s always so difficult to read. It’s another reason she can’t bring herself to trust him, even when trust is all they can truly rely on out here.

“Tell me we’re engaging.” He calls over the rush of wind and movement.

She turns her eyes back to the front, her cloak flaring behind her like the wings of a bird. Compared to titans, that’s all they are. Tiny, fragile things. Birds. So easy to crush with a heavy handed touch. She wonders if this is what ants feel when they watch a foot descend upon them.

“Yeah. Prioritize swift execution. No toying with it, Zabuza.”

He scoffs, but she doesn’t turn to look at him. “You’re no fun. The fuckers deserve it, anyway.”

“Definitely.” She acquiesces, because she’ll never say otherwise. But the titans can’t feel pain, so the butchering never feels anything but exhausting. Tireless. Repetitive. At this point she just hacks and kills because it’s routine. It’s breathing, it’s eating. It’s survival. Plain and simple. “But the quicker we deal with it, the quicker we can get the wounded out of there.”

“Bleeding heart.” Zabuza says, but he doesn’t contest her.

“Just be thankful I’m leaving the kill to you.”

“Who else could do it?” He snorts. “This lot is filled to the brim with snot-nosed rookies and bed-wetters.”

Yugito rolls her eyes, thankful that he can’t see her expression. She can’t afford to be seen as anything but sure and professional beyond the walls. It’s the only way to rally forces that are battling with their deeply ingrained need to flee — to survive. The Survey Corps can’t afford to do so. They must push forward, into the maws of death if needed, to reach their goal.

Getting close to anyone is a promise for pain. But members of the Survey Corps constantly find themselves suffering because it’s impossible not to form bonds when you eat, sleep and die beside each other. It’s hard, being human.

Sometimes she wishes she’d been born a cat. No responsibilities, no business doing anything but eating and sleeping. What a life that would be.

“Get ready.” She calls as the trees thin and their view of the abnormal titan becomes unobscured. Yugito is not a cat. She’s a human with many responsibilities, the title of Captain being one of them. Her comrades live, die and shatter on her watch, and she is an immovable stone standing above it all, unable to reach out a hand to help. Such is the penance of humanity. Such is the path she’s chosen to walk.

Zabuza zips by her, howling his war cry to the sky. She stares at the symbol of freedom stitched into his forest green cloak — fluttering, fluttering, fluttering.

If only.


End file.
